OF

DAVID

COPPERFIELD.

"The

-?"

My mother had been thinking of something else.

"The rooks-what has become of them

?"

asked Miss Betsey.

"There have not been any since we have lived here," said my mother.

"We thought-Mr. Copperfield thought-it was quite a large rookery

;

but the nests were very old ones, and the birds have deserted them a

long while."

<<David Copperfield all over

!

"

cried Miss Betsey. "David Copper-

field from head to foot

!

Calls a house a rookery when there 's not

a

rook

near it, and takes the birds on trust, because he sees the nests

!

"

Mr. Copperfield," returned my mother,

"

is dead, and if you dare to

speak unkindly of him to me-"

My poor dear mother,

I

suppose, had some momentary intention of

committing an assault and battery upon my aunt, who could easily have

settled her with one hand, even if my mother had been in far better

training for such an encounter than she was that evening. But it passed

with the action of rising from her chair; and she sat down again very

meekly, and fainted.

When she came to herself, or when Miss Betsey had restored her,

whichever it was, she found the latter standing at the window. The

twilight was by this time shading down into darkness; and dimly as

they saw each other, they could not have done that without the aid of the

fire.

"Well

?

"

said Miss Betsey, coming back to her chair, as if she had only

been taking a casual look at the prospect

;

"

and when do you expect-"

"

I

am all in a tremble," falteredmy mother.

"

I

don't know what 's

the matter.

I

shall die,

I

am sure

!

"

"No, no, no," said Miss Betsey.

"

Have some tea."

"

Oh dear me, dear me, do you think it will do me any good

?

"

cried

my mother in a helpless manner.

"

Of course it will," said Miss Betsey

.

"

It 's nothing but fancy.

What do you call your girl

?

"

I

don't know that it will be a girl, yet, ma'am," said my mother

innocently.

"Bless the Baby

!

"

exclaimed Miss Betsey, unconsciously quoting the

second sentiment of the pincushion in the drawer up-stairs, but applying

it to my mother instead

of

me,

"I

don't mean that.

I

mean your

servant-girl."

"Peggotty," said my mother.

"

Peggotty

!"

repeated Miss Betsey, with some indignation.

"

Do you

mean to say, child, that any human being has gone into a Christian church,

and got herself named Peggotty

?"

"

It's her surname," said my mother, faintly.

"Mr. Copperfield called

her by it, because her Christian name was the same as mine."

"

Here

!

Peggotty

!"

cried Miss Betsey, opening the parlor-door.

"

Tea.

Your mistress is a little unwell. Don't dawdle."

Having issued this mandate with as much potentiality as if she had

been a recognised authority in the house ever since it had been a house,

and having looked out to confront the amazed Peggotty coming along the

passage with a candle at the sound of

a

strange voice, Miss Betsey shut

6

THE

PERSONAL HISTORY

AND

EXPERIENCE

the door again, and sat down as before: with her feet on the fender, the

skirt of her dress tucked up, and her hands folded on one knee.

"You were speaking about its being a girl," said Miss Betsey.

"I

have no doubt it will be a girl.

I

have a presentiment that it must be a

girl.

Now child, from the moment of the birth of this girl-"

"Perhaps boy," my mother took the liberty of putting in.

"I

tell you

I

have a presentiment that it must be

a

girl," returned

Miss Betsey. "Don't contradict.

Prom the moment of this girl's birth,

child,

I

intend to be her friend.

I

intend to be her godmother, and

I

beg

you'll call her Betsey

Trotwood Copperfield. There must be no mistakes

in life with

this

Betsey Trotwood. There must be no trifling with

her

affections, poor dear. She must be well brought up, and well guarded

from reposing any foolish confidences where they are not deserved.

I

must make that

my

care."

There was a twitch of Miss Betsey's head, after each of these sentences,

as if her own old wrongs were working within her, and she repressed any

plainer reference to them by strong constraint. So my mother suspected,

at least, as she observed her by the low glimmer of the fire

:

too much

scared by Miss Betsey, too uneasy in herself, and too subdued and be-

wildered altogether, to observe anything very clearly, or to know what

to say.

"And was David good to you, child

?

"

asked Miss Betsey, when she

had been silent for a little while, and these motions of her head had

gradually ceased. "Were you comfortable together?

"

"We were very happy," said my mother.

"

Mr. Copperfield was only

too good to me."

"

What, he spoilt you,

I

suppose

?

"

returned Miss Betsey.

"For being quite alone and dependent on myself in this rough world

again, yes,

I

fear he did indeed," sobbed my mother.

"

Well

!

Don't cry!

"

saidMiss Betsey.

"

You were not equally matched,

child-if any two people

can

be equally matched-and so

I

asked the

question.

You were an orphan, weren't you?"

r'

Yes."

"

And a governess

?"

"

I

was nursery-governess in a family where Mr. Copperfield came to

visit. Mr. Copperfield was very kind to me, and took a great deal of

notice of me, and paid me

a

good deal of attention, and at last proposed

to me.

And

I

accepted him. And so we were married," said my mother

simply.

"

Ha

!

poor Baby

!"

mused Miss Betsey, with her frown still bent upon

the fire.

"

Do you know anything

?"

"

I

beg your pardon, ma'am," faltered my mother.

"About keeping house, for instance," said Miss Betsey.

"

Not much,

I

fear," returned my mother. "Not

so much as

I

could

wish.

But Mr. Copperfield was teaching me-"

("

Much he knew about it himself!

")

said Miss Betsey in a parenthesis.

-"

And

I

hope

I

should have improved, being very anxious to learn,

and he very patient to teach, if the great misfortune of his death "-my

mother broke down again here, and could get no farther.

OF DAVID COPPERFIELD.

'[

Well, well

!

"

said Miss Betsey.

-<<

I

kept my housekeeping-book regularly, and balanced

it

with

Mr.

Copperfield every night," cried my mother in another burst of distress,

and breaking down again.

"

Well, well

!

"

said Miss Betsey.

"

Don't cry any more."

-a

And

I

am sure we never had a word of difference respecting it,

except when Mr. Copperfield objected to my threes and fives being too

muchlike each other, or to my putting curly tails to my sevens and nines,"

resumed my mother in another burst, and breaking down again.

"

You'll make yourself ill," said Miss Betsey, "and you know that will

not be good either for you or for my god-daughter. Come

!

You mustn't

do

it

!

"

This argument had some share in quieting my mother, though her

increasing indisposition perhaps had a larger one. There was an interval

of silence, only broken by Miss Betsey's occasionally ejaculating "Ha

!

"

as she sat with her feet upon the fender.

"

David had bought an annuity for himself with his money,

I

know,"

said she, by and by.

"

What did he do for you?

"

Mr. Copperfield," said my mother, answering with some difficulty,

"was so considerate and good as to secure the reversion of a part of it

to me."

"

How much?

"

asked Miss Betsey.

"A

hundred and five pounds a year," said my mother.

"

He might have done worse," said my aunt.

The word was appropriate to the moment.

My mother was so much

worse that Peggotty, coming in with the

teaboard and candles, and seeing

at a glance how ill she was,-as Miss Betsey might have done sooner if

there had been light enough,-conveyed her up-stairs to her own room

with all speed

;

and immediately dispatched Ham Peggotty, her nephew,

who had been for some days past secreted in the house, unknown to my

mother, as a special messenger in case of emergency, to fetch the nurse

and doctor.

Those allied powers were considerably astonished, when they arrived

within a few minutes of each other, to find an unknown lady of portentous

appearance, sitting before the fire, with her bonnet tied over her left arm,

stopping her ears with jewellers' cotton. Peggotty knowing nothing

about her, and my mother saying nothing about her, she

was

quite a

mystery in the parlor

;

and the fact of her having a magazine of jewellers'

cotton in her pocket, and sticking the article in her ears in that way, did

not detract from the solemnity of her presence.

The doctor having been up-stairs and come down again, and having

satisfied himself,

I

suppose, that there was a probability of this unknown

lady and himself having to sit there, face to face, for some hours, laid

himself out to be polite and social. He was the meekest of his sex, the

mildest of little men. He sidled in and out of a room, to take up the

less space.

He walked as softly as the Ghost in Hamlet, and more

slowly. He carried his head on one side, partly in modest depreciation

of himself, partly in modest propitiation of everybody else.

It

is nothing

to say that he hadn't a word to throw at a dog. He couldn't have

THE PERSONAL HISTORY

AND

EXPERIENCE

throw%

a word at a mad dog.

He might have offered him one gently,

or half a one, or a fragment of one; for he spoke as slowly as he walked

;

but he wouldn't have been rude to him, and he

couldn't have been

quick with him, for any earthly consideration.

Mr. Chillip, looking mildly at my aunt, with his head on one side,

and making her a little bow, said, in allusion to the jewellers' cotton, as

he softly touched his left ear

:

"

Some local irritation, ma'am

?

"

"What!

"

replied my aunt, pulling the cotton out of one ear like

a cork.

Mr. Chillip was so alarmed by her abruptness-as he told my mother

afterwards-that it was a mercy he didn't lose his presence of mind.

But he repeated, sweetly

:

"

Some local irritation, ma'am

?

"

Nonsense

!"

replied my aunt, and corked herself again, at one

blow.

Mr. Chillip could do nothing after this, but sit and look at her feebly,

as she sat and looked at the fire, until he was called up-stairs again.

After some quarter of an hour's absence, he returned.

"Well?" said my aunt, taking the cotton out of the ear nearest

to him.

"

Well, ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip, "we are-we are progressing

slowly, ma'am."

"

Ba-a-ah

!

"

said my aunt, with a perfect shake on the contemptuous

interjection.

And corked herself, as before.

Really-really-as Mr. Chillip told my mother, he was almost shocked

;

speaking in a professional point of view alone, he was almost shocked.

But he sat and looked at her, notwithstanding, for nearly two hours, as

she sat looking at the fire, until he was again called out. After another

absence, he again returned.

"

Well

?

"

said my aunt, taking out the cotton on that side again.

"

Well, ma'am," returned

Mr.

Chillip,

"

we are-we are progressing

slowly, ma'am."

"

Ya-a-ah!" said my aunt. With such a snarl at him, that Mr. Chillip

absolutely could not bear it.

It was really calculated to break his spirit,

he said afterwards.

He preferred to go and sit upon the stairs, in the

dark and a strong draught, until he was again sent for.

Ham Peggotty, who went to the national school, and was a very

dragon at his catechism, and who may therefore be regarded as a credible

witness, reported next day, that happening to peep in at the parlor-door

an hour after this, he was instantly descried by Miss Betsey, then walking

to and fro in a state of agitation, and pounced upon before he could make

his escape. That there were now occasional sounds of feet and voices

overhead which he inferred the cotton did not exclude, from the circum-

stance of his evidently being clutched by the lady as a victim on whom to

expend her superabundant agitation when the sounds were loudest. That,

marching him constantly up and down by the collar (as if he had been

taking too much laudanum), she, at those times, shook him, rumpled his

hair, made light of his linen, stopped

his

ears as if she confounded them

OF DAVID COPPERFIELD.

9

with her own, and otherwise touzled and maltreated him. This was in

part confirmed by his aunt, who saw him at half-past twelve o'clock,

soon after his release, and affirmed that he was then as red as

I

was.

The mild Mr. Chillip could not possibly bear malice at such a time, if

at any time. He sidled into the parlor as soon as he was at liberty, and

said to my aunt in his meekest manner

:

"Well, ma'am,

I

am happy to congratulate you."

"What upon

?

"

said my aunt, sharply.

Mr. Chillipwas fluttered again, by the extreme severity of my aunt's

manner

;

so he made her a little bow and gave her a little smile, to mollify

her.

"

Mercy on the man, what's he doing

!

"

cried my aunt, impatiently.

"

Can 't he speak?

"

"Be calm, my dear ma'am," said Mr. Chillip, in his softest accents.

"

There is no longer any occasion for uneasiness, ma'am. Be calm."

It has since been considered almost a miracle that my aunt didn 't shake

him, and shake what he had to say, out of him.

She only shook her own

head at him, but in a way that made him quail.

"Well, ma'am," resumed Mr. Chillip, as soon as he had courage,

"

I

am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, ma'am, and well over."

During the five minutes or so that Mr. Chillip devoted to the delivery

of this oration, my aunt eyed him narrowly.

"

How is she?" said my aunt, folding her arms with her bonnet still

tied on one of them.

"

Well, ma'am, she will soon be quite comfortable,

I

hope," returned

Mr. Chillip.

"

Quite as comfortable as we can expect a young mother to

be, under these melancholy domestic circumstances. There cannot be any

objection to

your seeing her presently, ma'am. It may do her good."

"

And

she.

How is

she

?"

said my aunt, sharply.

Mr. Chillip laid his head a little more on one side, and looked at my

aunt like an amiable bird.

"

The baby," said my aunt.

"

How is she

?"

'<

Ma'am," returned Mr. Chillip,

"

I

apprehended you had known.

It's a boy."

My aunt said never a word, but took her bonnet by the strings, in

the manner of a sling, aimed a blow at Mr. Chillip's head with it, put

it on bent, walked out, and never came back. She vanished like a dis-

contented fairy;

or like one of those supernatural beings, whom it

was popularly supposed

I

was entitled to see

;

and never came back any

more.

No.

I

lay in my basket, and my mother lay in her bed; but Betsey

Trotwood Copperfield was for ever in the land of dreams and shadows,

the tremendous region whence

I

had so lately travelled; and the light

upon the window of our room shone out upon the earthly bourne of all

such travellers, and the mound above the ashes and the dust that once

was he, without whom

I

had never been.

THE PERSONAL HISTORY

AND

EXPERIENCE

CHAPTER

11.

I

OBSERVE.

THE

first objects that assume a distinct presence before me, as

I

look

far back, into the blank of my infancy, are my mother with her pretty

hair and youthful shape, and Peggotty with no shape at all, and eyes so

dark that they seemed to darken their whole neighbourhood in her face,

and cheeks and arms so hard and red that

I

wondered the birds didn't

peck her in preference to apples.

I

believe

I

can remember these two at a little distance apart, dwarfed

to my sight by stooping down or kneeling on the floor, and

I

going

unsteadily from the one to the other.

I

have an impression on my mind

which

I

cannot distinguish from actual remembrance, of the touch of

Peggotty's fore-finger as she used to hold it out to me, and of its being

roughened by needlework, like a pocket nutmeg-grater.

This may be fancy, though

I

think the memory of most of us can go

farther back into such times than many of us suppose

;

just as

I

believe

the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite

wonderful for its closeness and accuracy. Indeed,

I

think that most

grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may with greater pro-

priety be said not to have lost the faculty,

than to have acquired it

;

the

rather, as

I

generally observe such men to retain a certain freshness, and

gentleness, and capacity of being pleased, which are also an inheritance

they have preserved from their childhood.

I

might have a misgiving that

I

am "meandering

"

in stopping to say

this, but that

it

brings me to remark that

I

build these conclusions, in

part upon my own experience of myself

;

and if

it

should appear from any-

thing

I

may set down in this narrative that

I

was

a

child of close observa-

tion, or that as a

man

I

have a strong memory of my childhood,

I

undoubtedly lay claim to both of these characteristics.

Looking back, as

I

was saying, into the blank of my infancy, the first

objects

I

can remember as standing out by themselves from a confusion of

things, are my mother and Peggotty.

What else do

I

remember?

Let

me see.

There comes out of the cloud, our house-not new to me, but quite

familiar, in its earliest remembrance.

On the ground-floor is Peggotty's

kitchen, opening into a back yard; with a pigeon-house on a pole, in the

centre, without any pigeons in it

;

a great dog-kennel in a corner, without

any dog; and a quantity of fowls that look terribly

tall

to me, walking

about, in a menacing and ferocious manner. There is one cock who

gets upon

a

post to crow, and seems to take particular notice of me as

I

look at him through the kitchen-window, who makes me shiver, he is so

fierce. Of the geese outside the side-gate who come waddling after me

with their long necks stretched out when

I

go that way,

I

dream at night

:

as

a

man environed by wild beasts might dream of lions.

OF

DAVID COPPERFIELD.

11

Here is a long passage-what an enormous perspective

I

make of it!-

leading from Peggotty's kitchen to the front-door.

A

dark store-room

opens out of it, and that is a place to be run past at night

;

for

I

don't

know what may be among those tubs and jars and old tea-chests, when

there is nobody in there with a dimly-burning light, letting a mouldy air

come out at the door, in which there is the smell of soap, pickles, pepper,

candles, and coffee, all at one whiff. Then there are the two parlors

:

the

parlor in which we sit of an evening, my mother and

I

and Peggotty-

for Peggotty is quite our companion, when her work is done and we are

alone-and the best parlor where we sit on a Sunday

;

grandly, but not

so comfortably. There is something of a doleful air about that room to

me, for Peggotty has told me-I don't know when, but apparently ages

go-about myfather's

funera1,and the company having their black cloaks put

on. One Sunday night my mother reads to Peggotty and me in there,

how

Lazarus was raised up from the dead. And

I

am so frightened that

they are afterwards obliged to take me out of bed, and shew me the quiet

churchyard out of the bedroom window, with the dead all lying in their

graves at rest, below the solemn moon.

There is nothing half so green that

I

know anywhere, as the grass of

that churchyard

;

nothing half so shady as its trees

;

nothing half so quiet

as its tombstones. The sheep are feeding there, when

I

kneel up, early

in the morning, in my little bed in a closet within my mother's room, to

look out at it

;

and

I

see the red light shining on the sun-dial, and think

within myself,

cc

Is the sun-dial glad,

I

wonder, that it can tell the time

again

?

"

Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed pew! With a

window near it, out of which our house can be seen, and

is

seen many

times during the morning's service, by Peggotty, who likes to make her-

self as sure as she can that it's not being robbed, or is not in flames.

But though Peggotty's eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does,

and frowns to me, as

I

stand upon the seat, that

I

am to look at the

clergyman. But

I

can't always look at him-I know him without that

white thing on, and

I

am afraid of his wondering why

I

stare so, and

perhaps stopping the service to enquire-and what am

I

to do? It's

a

dreadful thing to gape, but

I

must do something.

I

look at my

mother, but

she

pretends not to see me.

I

look at a boy in the

aisle, and

he

makes faces at me.

I

look at the sunlight coming in at

the open door through the porch, and there

I

see a stray sheep-I don't

mean a sinner, but mutton-half making up his mind to come into the

church.

I

feel that if

I

looked at him any longer,

I

might be tempted

to say something out loud; and what would become of me then

!

I

look up at the monumental tablets on the wall, and try to think of

Mr.

Bodgers late of this parish, and what the feelings of Mrs. Bodgers must

have been, when affliction sore, long time Mr. Bodgers bore, and physi-

cians were in vain.

I

wonder whether they called in Mr. Chillip, and he

was in vain; and if so, how he likes to be reminded of it once a week.

I

look from Mr. Chillip, in his Sunday neckcloth, to the pulpit;

and think what a good place it would be to play in, and what a castle

it would make, with another boy coming up the stairs to attack it, and

1%

THE PERSONAL HISTORY AND EXPERIENCE

having the velvet cushion with the tassels thrown down on his head.

In time my eyes gradually shut up; and, from seeming to hear the

clergyman singing a drowsy song in the heat,

I

hear nothing, until

I

fall off the seat with a crash, and am taken out, more dead than alive, by

-

Peggotty.

And now

I

see the outside of our house, with the latticed bedroom-

windows standing open to let in the sweet-smelling

air,

and the ragged

old rooksy-nests still dangling in the elm-trees at the bottom of the front

garden. Now

I

am in the garden at the back, beyond the yard where the

empty pigeon-house and dog-kennel are-a very preserve of butterflies,

as

I

rcmember it, with a high fence, and a gate and padlock

;

where the

fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since,

in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket,

while

I

stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to lookunmoved.

A

great wind rises, and the summer is gone in a moment. We are

playing in the winter twilight, dancing about the parlor. When my

mother is out of breath and rests herself in an elbow-chair,

I

watch her

winding her bright curls round her fingers, and straitening her waist, and

nobody knows better than

I

do that she likes to look so well, and is proud

of being so pretty.

That is among my very earliest impressions. That, and a sense that

we were both a little afraid of Peggotty, and submitted ourselves in most

things to her direction, were among the first opinions-if they may be so

called-that

I

ever derived from what

I

saw.

Peggotty and

I

were sitting one night by the parlor fire, alone.

I

had been reading to Peggotty about crocodiles.

I

must have read

very perspicuously, or the poor soul must have been deeply interested, for

I

remember she had a cloudy impression, after

I

had done, that they were a sort

of vegetable.

I

was tired of reading, and dead sleepy

;

but having leave, as a

high treat, to sit up until my mother came home from spending the evening

at a

neighbour's,

I

would rather have died upon my post (of course) than

have gone to bed.

I

had reached that stage of sleepiness when Peggotty

seemed to swell and grow immensely large.

I

propped my eyelids open

with my two forefingers, and looked perseveringly at her as she sat at

work; at the little bit of wax-candle she kept for her thread-how

old it looked, being so wrinkled in

all

directions !-at the little house with

a thatched roof, where the yard-measure lived; at her work-box with a

sliding lid, with a view of Saint Paul's Cathedral (with a pink dome) painted

on the top

;

at the brass thimble on her finger; at herself, whom

I

thought lovely.

I

felt so sleepy, that

I

knew if

I

lost sight of anything,

for a moment,

I

was gone.

"Peggotty," says

I,

suddenly, "were you ever married?"

"

Lord, Master Davy," replied Peggotty.

"What

's

put marriage in

your head

!

"

She answered with such a start, that it quite awoke me. And then she

stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its

thread's length.

"

But

were

you ever married, Peggotty

?

"

says

I.

"

You are a very

handsome woman,

an't you

?"

OF

DAVID

COPPERFIELD.

13

I

thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly

;

but of

another school of beauty,

I

considered her a perfect example. There was

a redvelvet footstool in the best parlor, on which my mother had painted

a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion,

appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth,

and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference.

"

Me handsome, Davy

!

"

said Peggotty.

"

Lawk, no, my dear

!

But

what put marriage in your head

?

"

I

don't know !-You mustn't marry more than one person at a time,

may you, Peggotty

?"

"

Certainly not," says Peggotty, with the promptest decision.

"But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may

marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty

?

"

"You

MAY,"

says Peggotty,

"if

you choose, my dear.

That's a

matter of

oninion."

-

rc

But wcat is your opinion, Peggotty

?

"

said

I.

I

asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously

at me.

"

My

opinion is," said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after

a

little

indecision and going on with her work, "that

I

never was married myself,

Master Davy, and that

I

don't expect to be. That's all

I

know about the

subject."

"

You an't cross,

I

suppose, Peggotty, are you?

"

said

I,

after sitting

quiet for a minute.

I

really thought she was, she had been so short with me; but

I

was

quite mistaken

:

for she laid aside her work, (which was a stocking of her

own,) and opening her arms wide, took my curly head within them, and

gave it a good squeeze.

I

know it was a good squeeze, because, being

very plump, whenever she made any little exertion after she was dressed,

some of the buttons on the back of her gown flew off. And

I

recol-

lect two bursting to the opposite side of the parlor, while she was

-.

hugging me.

"

Now let me hear some more about the Crorkindills," said Peggotty,

who was not quite right in the name yet,

"

for

I

an't heard half

enou~h."

---

.

-~

Q-

I

couldn't quite understand why Peggotty looked so queer, or why she

was so ready to go back to the crocodiles. However, we returned to those

monsters, with fresh wakefulness on my part, and we left their eggs in

the sand for the sun to hatch; and we ran away from them, and baffled

them by constantly turning, which they were unable to do quickly, on

account of their unwieldy make; and we went into the water after them,

as natives, and put sharp pieces of timber down their throats; and in

short we ran the whole crocodile gauntlet.

I

did at least; but

I

had my

doubts of Peggotty, who was thoughtfully sticking her needle into various

parts of her face and arms, all the time.

We had exhausted the crocodiles, and begun with the alligators, when

the garden-bell rang. We went out to the door; and there was my

mother, looking unusually pretty,

I

thought, and with her a gentleman

with beautiful black hair and whiskers, who had walked home with us from

church last Sunday.

14

THE

PERSONAL HISTORY

AND

EXPERIENCE

As my mother stooped down on the threshhold to take me in her arms

and kiss me, the gentleman said

I

was a more highly privileged little

fellow than a monarch-or something like that

;

for my later understanding

comes,

I

am sensible, to my aid here.

"

What does that mean

?

"

I

asked him, over her shoulder.

He patted me on the head

;

but somehow,

I

didn't like him or his deep

voice, and

I

was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in

touching me-which it did.

I

put it away, as well as

I

could.

"

Oh Davy

!

"

remonstrated my mother.

"

Dear boy

!

"

said the gentleman.

"

I

cannot wonder at his devotion!"

I

never saw such a beautiful color on my mother's face before. She

gently chid me for being rude

;

and, keeping me close to her shawl, turned

to thank the gentleman for taking so much trouble as to bring her home.

She put out her hand to him as she spoke, and, as he met it with his own,

she glanced,

I

thought, at me.

"

Let us say

'

good night,' my fine boy," said the gentleman, when he

had bent his

head-1 saw him !-over my mother's little glove.

"

Good night

!"

said

I.

"

Come

!

Let us be the best friends in the world

!

"

said the gentleman,

laughing.

"

Shake hands

!

"

My right hand was in my mother's left, so

I

gave him the other.

"

Why that's the wrong hand, Davy

!

"

laughed the gentleman.

My mother drew my right hand forward, but

I

was resolved, for my

former reason, not to give it him, and

I

did not.

I

gave

him

the other, and

he shook it heartily, and said

I

was a brave fellow, and went away.

At this minute

I

see him turn round in the garden, and give us a last

look with his ill-omened black eyes, before the door was shut.

Peggotty, who had not said a word or moved a finger, secured the

fastenings instantly, and we all went into the parlor. My mother, con-

trary to her usual habit, instead of coming to the elbow-chair by the fire,

remained at the other end of the room, and sat singing to herself.

"-Hope you have had a pleasant evening, ma'am," said Peggotty,

standing as stiff as a barrel in the centre of the room, with a candlestick

in her hand.

"Much obliged to you, Peggotty," returned my mother,

in

a cheerful

voice,

"

I

have had a

very

pleasant evening."

"A

stranger or so makes an agreeable change," suggested Peggotty.

"

A very agreeable change indeed," returned my mother.

Peggotty continuing to stand motionless in the middle of the room,

and my mother resuming her singing,

I

fell asleep, though

I

was not so

sound asleep but that

I

could hear voices, without hearing what they said.

When

I

half awoke from this uncomfortable dose,

I

found Peggotty and

my mother both in tears, and both talking.

"Not such

a

one as this, Mr. Copperfield wouldn't have liked," said

Peggotty. "That

I

say, and that

I

swear

!"

"

Good Heavens

!

"

cried my mother.

"

You '11 drive me mad

!

Was

ever any poor girl so ill-used by her servants as

I

am

!

Why do

I

do

myself the injustice of calling myself a girl? Have

I

never been married,

Peggotty

?"